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Subject: {ASSM} "Stepsister" (MF, cons, bdsm, oral; mg reluct, mast)
Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002 23:10:05 -0500
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Stepsister

H. Jekyll

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

MF, cons, bdsm, oral (videotape); mg reluct, mast

Copyright 2002 by H. Jekyll. Permission is freely 
granted to post on any site that does not charge for 
entrance, as long as proper attribution is given. The 
story should not be read by anyone under the legal 
age to read sexually explicit stories, or by anyone 
in a location where it is illegal to read such 
stories. 

Please send comments, inquiries, requests, and 
criticisms to: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com. I do enjoy 
correspondence. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Is it because he's seventeen and afflicted with 
raging erections? How often does he masturbate? He's 
counted up to seven in a day, and he does it at least 
once every single day. Sex is everything, the only 
thing he wants to think about, the driving drive. He 
fantasizes about every woman he sees, every starlet, 
every girl in school, his teachers. 

His real life experiences with another person aren't 
numerous but his fantasies, oh my God, are 
astounding, fed with internet porn and produced by a 
mind that is sharper than anyone else's he knows and 
highly motivated. They include twisted things that 
he'd like to do, that he jacks-off to over and over. 
Is that the reason?

Perhaps he wasn't socialized as well as other boys, 
so doesn't repress the viler desires. Does being 
smarter help? He can think of so many more things to 
do. Maybe he bears an evil that was just born with 
him, that has always existed. If so he hides it well. 
Everyone thinks he is such a nice lad. They wouldn't 
believe that he could imagine raping his stepmother 
and making her like it, or kidnapping the head 
cheerleader and making her suck his dick all night 
long. 

Slow down your hand. Move it slowly. Stop when you 
get too close. Imagine the sound of the belt. Imagine 
her crying. Imagine her agreeing to do everything. 
Slowly. Slow down. Oh hell I'm coming again! 

Ah, that was good. Let's try for three in a row.

He knows he's dangerous, that there's a potential in 
him. He's probably much more dangerous than most 
boys.

Maybe, though, just maybe he simply has more 
opportunity. Maybe it's because he has an eleven year 
old stepsister who adores him, who holds his hand and 
loves to snuggle against him, who gets jealous of his 
dates, a prepubescent child just barely developing 
breasts, who is oh-so-shy and too inexperienced to 
know the limits of trust.

And maybe it's because he has parents who are idiots, 
planning a six-week anniversary cruise, leaving him 
in charge of the house and his sister for a very long 
time. Ever since he found out he has been setting the 
stage for the weeks he'll have her alone.

* * * * *

His preparations began early, soon after his 
stepmother took him aside to say they were going to 
celebrate their fifth anniversary in the South 
Pacific, Hawaii, the Galapagos, and that he would 
have a large responsibility for one so young. That 
night he knew what he would do. First there was the 
tape. It was important to prepare her for the 
experience, to make her accept it. Yeah, yeah, 
prepare her.

"Come on Sissy, while they're out. I'm going to show 
you something secret that I found. You must never 
tell anyone and you have to promise to watch the 
whole thing. Promise, or I can't show you."

He had found the tape in their closet, high up and to 
the back, inside a shoe box. There were five tapes in 
all, but this was by far his favorite. Did they 
really think they could hide them from him? Before he 
ever played any he knew they would be good, because 
of the secrecy, and he was right. It gave him a new, 
deep appreciation of his father and vast fantasies 
about his stepmother.

"Sit quietly. Remember, you have to stay through the 
whole thing. Do you promise?" 

The room was dark, the only light coming from the TV 
and a little more from the hall bathroom. They sat 
close to each other as he touched the remote. She 
wanted as much contact as possible. Little currents 
of lightness moved in her chest because it would be 
something forbidden that she would share with him. 
She didn't know the half of it.

As the tape started she curled up against him, but 
she soon looked away and tried to end the body 
contact. He held her.

"No. You promised."

* * * * *

The first scene is jumpy, the work of someone who is 
just learning the equipment. Her mother is sitting on 
the edge of their bed, naked. She is a lovely woman 
with a slight bulge in her belly that doesn't detract 
at all from what happens, with breasts that droop a 
little as womanly breasts should. 

His father steps into the scene from the direction of 
the camera. One can see him only from knees to chest. 
He is naked, with a curved erection that soars from a 
mat of unkempt, dark hair. His ass partially blocks 
the scene as her mother leans down to grasp his prick 
and take it to her mouth.

There is more. As the tape starts she is looking at 
the camera, looking apprehensively. How did he get 
her to agree? Did he show her others' tapes, maybe 
the Pamela Anderson tape? She looks to the camera, 
then up to his face, away from his penis. Finally 
down to it. One last look at the camera, then she 
looks directly at the penis. She takes it in her 
hand, holding it just below the head, like a chicken 
held by the neck, opens her mouth and slides her lips 
over it.

At this point the watching daughter made a low sound 
like "ohh," like a quiet moan that lasted for two or 
three seconds, and she tried to move for the first 
time.

The mother's face has the classic blow job look, her 
jaw open wide to let her fit over the meat, her eyes 
aimed down onto her husband's shaft so hard they 
almost cross. Then her eyes close almost completely, 
her lips protrude slightly outward and form an 'O' 
around the back of the head, and her cheeks go 
concave. While she sucks on it she jacks the penis 
into her mouth, not too fast and not too deeply.

* * * * *

The daughter said: "We shouldn't be doing this."

"You promised. You have to trust me. This is what men 
and women do to each other, and they love it. That's 
why they filmed it. Someday they would show it to you 
themselves, so you could learn what to do."

He knew he was a lying bastard and he loved it.

* * * * *

On the tape his father has put his hands on her 
mother's head and has started making grunting noises. 
He says "I'm close. Get ready." Then he pulls out of 
her mouth and points his dick at her. A ropy spray of 
semen shoots between them and hits her just below the 
notch at the top of her chest, just above her 
breasts. Two, three good squirts before the force is 
gone and it dribbles out. 

"Now rub it in," he tells her, "rub the tit lotion in 
good." 

She takes both hands and smears the mess onto her 
breasts, rubbing in circular motions until the semen 
is invisible to the camera. The scene ends, leaving a 
dark screen.

* * * * *

"Oh they couldn't like that! Let me go!" 

She meant her mother couldn't like it.

He held her tightly, both arms around her, holding 
her still.

"Sis, you're going to stay until I say you can go. 
You think she doesn't like it? Well watch the next 
part."

* * * * *

In the next scene the camera is on as the two get to 
the bed, again already naked. This time the mother 
doesn't look to the camera. The two kneel facing each 
other and give luscious kisses. The camera focuses on 
their faces, on their mouths. When the boy first saw 
the scene he thought someone else was with them in 
the room, but then he saw the control device in his 
father's hand, and saw his father glance to the side 
every so often, to what he could finally tell was a 
monitor.

"Damn," he thought, "he's controlling the camera 
during sex."

The couple on the screen nibble on each others' 
nipples. She bends to take his penis into her mouth 
again, but then he pushes her back and pulls her legs 
open. His head goes between them. He says:

"You sweet bitch. I'm going to film you coming and 
make you watch yourself doing it."

"Oh you bastard." She gasps as he does something to 
her vagina. "God I love you. Not so hard. Oh please. 
God, you're evil. Yes, like that. Yes!"

True to his word, the camera focuses on her face, 
from the side catching her half-closed eyes - mere 
slit shapes on her face - and her slightly open 
mouth. She keeps making little gasping grunts. The 
camera, though, pans down from her face to her body, 
so that one can see it jerking and undulating. Her 
hands are fidgeting, moving around and grabbing 
sheets. Finally the camera gets down to her cunt, to 
focus on his mouth buried in her. She is moving her 
cunt against his face. In the middle of this he 
glances at the monitor. 

The camera then pans back up toward her face, moving 
with dreadful slowness as her breathing gets faster 
and her grunts take on a higher pitch. It gets to her 
face before she comes, showing a vein standing out on 
her now red and sweaty forehead. Her face is all 
scrunched up but her mouth is open wide. Then her 
head goes back and she cries out in a higher pitch, 
in the same rhythm as her grunts, saying,

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!"

When he first saw this the boy had thought: why 
haven't I ever heard them doing it? He paused the 
tape.

* * * * *

During the second part the girl stopped struggling 
and stared at the screen. Once it ended her 
stepbrother carefully loosened his hold on her and 
placed her beside him. She didn't move; neither would 
she look at him.

"Let's talk. Those are some of the things adults do 
when they're having sex. Did you understand it?"

She nodded, but she didn't know what to think. She 
was embarrassed to have seen that with him, but she 
was so infatuated that she didn't want to leave. 
She'd stay for him. She had had a young girl's 
fantasies about him, had imagined him kissing her but 
hadn't ever really imagined a sex scene. She didn't 
know exactly what such a scene would be like, exactly 
what they would do, except that they would be naked 
and he would put his penis in her. Those things on 
the film were so disgusting and so intense that she 
didn't know what to make of them. Could grown ups 
really do that? But she saw it!

"What parts about it didn't you understand?"

In a minute she asked, her voice weak and tremulous:

"When Mommy said 'Oh God, Oh God' - was she having an 
orgasm?"

"Yes. That's what most women do when they come. Do 
you know what "come" means?"

She nodded. She still wouldn't look at him. "We 
learned about orgasms in school. About different 
words. But it looked like she was crying. Why was she 
doing that?"

"Because when men do things to women it feels so good 
that it's more than the women can stand. Sometimes 
they even scream because it feels so good. They can't 
help themselves."

"Why didn't he scream too?"

What answer to give, to plant the seed?

"Men enjoy being in control. It's natural. And women 
like men to be in control. You saw what he made her 
do, and how much she liked it."

She was silent. She wondered how it would be when she 
finally had sex, if it would be like on the screen 
and if she would cry out. She would, and soon.

"What else didn't you understand?"

"Well, I thought, I thought . . ." She stopped to 
figure out how to word it. "I thought that when a 
man, uh, uh, came, he did it in the woman's vagina, 
to make a baby. Why did he do it on her, uh, uh, uh 
chest?" 

It was hard for her to talk with him about that. She 
couldn't remember ever seeing a penis before, 
certainly not an erect one. Now she couldn't shake 
the image of that ugly, dark, reddish thing in her 
mother's mouth, or of it spraying her breasts. How 
could she put it in her mouth?

"He could have come in her vagina, but men like to 
come lots of places, and when he made her rub his 
sperm on her boobs he liked it more."

"Oh."

"Now we're going to watch the rest of it. There isn't 
that much more. You're not going to try to get away 
again, are you?"

She looked down and said "no" in a tiny voice. They 
sat back and he restarted the tape. He made her sit 
right up against him. This one would be intense, and 
he didn't want her to have a chance.

* * * * *

Her mother is tied spread-eagled to the bed as the 
scene begins. It is a large, mahogany, sleigh bed 
with a lovely wrought-iron filigree pattern that is 
visible at the headboard. His father must be holding 
the camera. It pans over her, showing her entire 
body, then focusing on her torso or face or the ropes 
on her wrists. She is again naked.

She is speaking. At first it is hard to hear her 
because of some bumping noises but then her voice 
comes through.

"Please let me go, sweetheart. I promise I won't do 
it again. I know I was wrong."

She sounds unhappy. 

"It isn't that easy." 

He places the camera on something so that it is 
filming downward at her. Then he continues:

"I can't let you violate your discipline like that, 
and I won't be a pussy and just let you off."

His hand appears, and caresses her stomach. Then it 
moves down to her spread vagina and caresses her 
there for some time while they talk. She is pleading 
and bargaining, while he is being firm about whatever 
the topic is.

"Here, have another glass of water."

"No. Please don't. I really have to go. I don't know 
how long I can hold it."

"I said drink! And I don't want you spilling any, 
unless you want it to go hard!"

He holds a full glass to her mouth and she drinks it 
slowly down, stopping twice to breathe. Then he 
returns to caressing her sex.

"Please honey, I really have to go now."

"You're all wet here. You've gotten hot, haven't 
you?"

"No. I don't know. Please let me go. You can tie me 
up again when I'm finished. I'll do everything you 
want, darling. I'll be obedient. You'll be proud of 
me. But I have to pee right now. I really do. I'll 
wet the bed."

"You're so hot, holding that in for me. I bet you'd 
like me to fuck you right now, wouldn't you?" 

He is pushing the fingers of one hand up into her 
vagina and pulling softly on her vaginal lips with 
the other hand.

"Oh please! Don't do this to me. Please!"

"If you wet the bed I'll have to be severe with you. 
Can't even hold a little water. Holding it in is 
making you more excited, isn't it? Knowing you might 
get punished if you can't show discipline is 
thrilling you."

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can hold it. I'm not 
pretending! Please!"

He leans on her lower belly with both hands and she 
cries hoarsely. For the first time he is entirely 
visible, and he is naked a well. His erection is much 
larger than before.

"Oh, you have plenty of room in you still. Why don't 
you beg me to fuck you? The way you are now, you'll 
pop like a firecracker. Do it. Beg. Afterwards, we'll 
see about your bladder fixation."

"Please fuck me, Honey. Oh please. But hurry. Hurry! 
Oh God!"

"Admit that you're my little slut, my little fuck 
toy."

"I am. Oh please Honey, fuck your little slut 
quickly."

He enters her, fucking in and out, not hurrying at 
all. He has the camera pan to her face and it is 
clear she is caught between desire and something 
else. Her swollen eyes are half closed, then snap 
open, then close again. Her moans are harsh and she 
thrashes her head back and forth. 

After a few moments it is clearly a tie between the 
desire and the something else. She says "Please 
Honey, please no," but does so in the ragged pattern 
of someone close to eruption. His grunts, much lower, 
can be heard on the tape, but only just barely. They 
remain as a kind of counterpoint, while her cries 
rise in volume and pitch, but with those same words 
repeated over and over,

"Oh please darling, no, please, no please no ...!"

Then she is over the top, crying away, and he is 
obviously coming, too, and there is another sound, 
faint but clearly there on the tape: a hiss, the 
sound of a thin stream of liquid spraying onto 
something and splashing. She is wetting the bed. Her 
crying out becomes mere crying right in the middle. 
She sobs, spread across the bed with him lying atop 
her. She tries to say something but is almost 
incoherent, babbling:

"I'm sorry, Honey, I'm sorry. I couldn't stop it. Oh 
please I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me. I didn't mean 
to do it. I tried to hold it but I couldn't. I didn't 
mean to."

* * * * *

The girl on the couch said "Oh, Mommy," and put her 
face in her hands. The boy told her she had to watch, 
and he pulled her hands away. He said,

"If you don't do what you're told I'll punish you. In 
a minute you'll see what a man can do to a women who 
isn't obedient!"

* * * * *

Back on the screen, his father doesn't appear at all 
upset by this turn with his wife.

"Well. Pissed all over me. That's the wettest I ever 
got you, no? And you're so easy, too. Now, let's take 
a look at things."

He rises and walks toward the camera, penis half 
dangling and a couple lines of fluid running down his 
thighs. The room rocks around while he picks up the 
camera, and then it is pointing between her thighs, 
showing the bedding, darkly wet in a rough fan shape 
out from her slit. There are individual drops of 
fluid on her and some rivulets.

He pans up her body to her face and neck, which are 
very, very red, especially so because the video 
camera over-saturates the color. Her face is wet as 
well and she is still crying, though more quietly. 
When the camera comes to her face she turns away, 
trying to hide it.

"No! No, please not that. I can't stand for you to 
tape me like this. Don't do this, please." She starts 
sobbing all over again.

"Oh I'll film you all right. You'll get so hot when 
you see yourself like this later, and so will I. Now 
look at the camera. I'm going to have to punish you 
anyway, but if you don't cooperate right now I'll 
have to be cruel."

So she turns her face to the camera and he takes a 
good close up, showing the ugly, red-and-swollen look 
that comes with heavy crying. She doesn't turn away 
again. Her actions could almost have been scripted.

"It's almost as wet up her as down there," he says, 
jerking the camera toward her sex. The room swirls 
and jerks while he puts the camera back wherever it 
had been resting, so that it is again pointing half-
down at her.

There is a sound of things bumping, then he steps 
toward her from the direction of the lens, holding a 
belt by the buckle end.

"Let's get your punishment over with."

She just stares at the belt. The end is pointed and 
metal tipped. Shiny. The buckle end is looped twice 
around his fist to give him a good hold.

"I'm going to give you ten of the best, and you're 
going to count them for me. Do you understand?"

She stares at the belt, her eyes wide. She doesn't 
say a word, but nods. 

* * * * *

Watching this from the couch the little girl said 
"No, he can't do that," and the boy told her to be 
still. Whatever happens already happened. She can't 
change it. Then the girl sat hunched over, with her 
hands near her eyes, but she was afraid to try to 
cover them again.

* * * * *

"Let's start," says the husband. "Show your love to 
the instrument of your correction."

The camera pans to her head again. Slowly, from the 
top of the screen, the tip of the belt wriggles into 
view. She looks up at it red faced, her mouth twisted 
in an anguish looked. When the tip passes close to 
mouth she raises her head and catches it in her lips. 
It is a tender grasp, as one would capture a lover's 
lip while she moved her face across yours. The girl's 
mother holds the tip while more belt is lowered, 
until it begins to loop. Then she sucks the tip into 
her mouth. The camera adjusts to present a super 
close-up of her face.

More belt is fed to her, and she takes it in, 
alternately sucking and using her lips. After a few 
seconds there is more. She starts to consume this as 
well, but gags. She turns her head to the side and 
makes a belching noise and holds herself perfectly 
still. When she turns her head back up her eyes are 
watering. She gags again, not as forcefully, lies 
still for the moment, then looks toward the boy's 
father with pleading in her eyes and shakes her head 
in a tiny "no." 

One can see her throat at the bottom of the screen. 
She is swallowing repeatedly. When more belt is fed 
to her, she makes a quiet sound of despair but eats 
it slowly. How much has she in her mouth? More belt. 
Some more. Suddenly in mid-swallow she heaves and, 
turning her head quickly away from the camera, she 
loses the entire tangle of belt, bathed in saliva and 
mucus. Nothing else comes out. Her face is hidden, 
but her breasts rise and fall rapidly with her 
breathing.

* * * * *

The girl scarcely moved watching all of this. It was 
as though she'd forgotten the boy's presence. A hand 
went over her mouth but her eyes never left the 
screen. Her world changed right then, her view of it. 
The boy was busy rubbing his prick through his jeans, 
up and down. He didn't care if she saw him or not. 
He'd rather she did.

* * * * *

On the screen the boy's father is speaking.

"You're so lovely, my dear, and do try so hard to be 
obedient. Let's get your punishment over with so that 
I can make you happy again." 

He changes the camera focus so that the girl's mother 
is visible from her head to her vagina. He is visible 
only intermittently, at the edge of the frame, but 
his penis sometimes sticks out into the frame even 
when he is otherwise not seen.

"Since it was your belly that wouldn't hold your 
water, that's where I'm going to whip you."

His arm rises through the edge of the picture, so 
rapidly that the belt is merely a blur, and then he 
brings it down just as quickly. There is a loud pop, 
almost a snap, when the belt lands. All her muscles 
tense and she bucks on the bed. Her cry is strangely 
hoarse to one raised on Hollywood fare, in which 
women have high pitched screams for all occasions.

"Ohh, ohh. One. Oh please, please. Oh God." 

God is nowhere to be seen, but her husband stands 
there while she twists on the bed and her crying 
fades away. Once she seems settled he whips her 
again, again a single stroke. She manages to say 
"two" but her crying and struggling are more frantic, 
more panicked, as though she thinks she may not be 
able to make it to ten. She begs between strokes, 
pleads, promises him the world if he will stop. She 
will be so good to him.

* * * * *

The boy noticed that the camera could pick up the 
whip marks on her belly. They were about an inch 
apart and displayed the pointed shape of the belt's 
tip. A tiny bit of blood was oozing from the very tip 
of one of them. He showed this to his stepsister, who 
didn't want to look. She was breathing fast and 
holding herself stiff and shaking. He backed the tape 
up to show her, and when she saw it she made a crying 
sound way back in her throat, but while her eyes grew 
wet she didn't, at this time, cry. 

* * * * *

At "seven" the wife forgets to count.

She is pulling and twisting, her face even redder 
than before, her chest heaving and her mouth open in 
a massive grimace while she pulls against her ropes, 
each of them, then all of them at once. What one can 
hear is scattered words, "no," and "please" and 
"stop" among the cries and gasps.

"You're not submitting correctly, my dear," he says. 
His face is now right over hers. "We're going to have 
to add two strokes. Now let's begin again, with 
'seven'."

She can still squeal. *That* she can do. She pleads 
some more and then he whips her.

"Say it."

When he is done he turns out the light and leaves 
her. There is the sound of a door closing. The camera 
stays on, though, and she is still vaguely visible, 
crying, then whimpering to herself for awhile, and 
then becoming still, as though asleep. Finally the 
screen goes snowy.

* * * * *

The boy turned to his stepsister. She was afraid to 
look at him, afraid for him to touch her, afraid to 
move away.

"Look at me."

Shyly, slowly she turned her eyes upward. Only her 
eyes. He looked the same as always, the big brother 
she loved. Would he do something terrible to her now? 
She waited for her doom, trembling, hyperventilating. 
She was dizzy and the world had passed through some 
portal into a place she didn't recognize.

What he did was lean down and kiss her on the head. 
She jerked when he began the movement, but he did 
nothing bad. He said:

"There's one last scene. It'll start in a minute."

* * * * *

Sure enough there is suddenly a picture. 

Her mother is on the bed, on her back but not bound. 
The light is back on. His father is kissing her, a 
full open-mouthed kiss. The camera catches their 
tongues stroking each other. The fingers of a freed 
hand pass through his hair and pull his head down to 
her. When he shifts his weight one can see that her 
stomach is a mess, covered in overlapping belt-width 
welts. The most prominent welts are on the edges. In 
three spots the skin has been broken and she has bled 
a little.

The wet bedding between her legs is visible as well, 
still dark with her water.

The sound quality is worse than before. One has to 
listen carefully. The mother first, is saying 
something like 'I love you so much' and 'must look so 
terrible,' but the father disagrees. His voice 
carries better.

"You're God's beautiful woman. I'll show you the tape 
later. You'll see. Where you hate yourself the most, 
when your eyes are red and swollen, you are the most 
erotic creature. The whole world would want to fuck 
you, but only I get to."

She holds him tightly, still holding his head to her. 
She says "Show me Sweetheart. Let me see it."

"No. Not when you're high. I'll let you see it when 
you need a spark. Not now."

He moves down to a breast and sucks the nipple into 
his mouth. She makes a delightful whimper, a sexual 
one, and continues to stroke his hair. Next the other 
nipple. He looks up at her.

"You're salty, love. I'm going to clean you a 
little."

He moves his face to her stomach. He starts licking 
and sucking on her welts.

"Unh! Oh darling, more softly please. Oh! Oh!"

His mouth is slow and loving, going over every line. 
He spends extra time where she has bled. Her 
breathing quickens and she begins to whimper all over 
again, but she protests only when he hits an 
especially sensitive spot or sucks especially hard, 
so there are occasional sounds of "oh, softer 
darling, don't be so hard darling." She uses a lot of 
"oh's." Her hands come down to the back of his head 
to pull him into her soft belly, then jerk away from 
him spastically to shake rigidly in the air, fingers 
splayed, then come back to him.

When he is done with her stomach he moves to her 
vagina, lying face-first on those urine-soaked 
sheets, and begins eating her, still slowly and 
lovingly, working on her labia, her clitoris, her 
slit, her cunt. There's no hurry, though she tries to 
hurry him by pulling him to her harder. Her breaths 
are fuller, richer, louder, and after a bit it is 
clear that she is close. She pushes her sex at him 
but he just keeps on at his own pace until anyone 
watching the video can tell she is very close. Then 
he moves his mouth right over her sex and begins 
sucking and she comes loudly.

The tape ends. The boy wondered why it ended before 
his father got to fuck her.

* * * * *

There were just the two of them in the half-lit room, 
no naked parents on the TV. The girl seemed dazed. 
She stared at the blank screen, her head in a whirl, 
not knowing what to do or say, wondering fearfully 
what he would do now.

"That's what they do. Wasn't it great?"

Silence.

"Well, wasn't it?"

"No."

"You liked the sexing. It was obvious."

"Well I didn't like him hurting her!" Now she felt a 
rage she could express.

"Maybe not, but she did. You saw how sexed up she 
got after he punished her."

"She couldn't like it."

"But she did. It makes her love him. You know how 
lovey-dovey she's always being with him. She's always 
happy around him. You know that."

Just as suddenly there was a hole in her emotions. 
What happened to the rage? Where did it go? She knew 
he was right, and the knowledge made her lose her way 
in this new world.

"Maybe, though, maybe it only happened the one time."

"Uh-uh, Sissy, there are other tapes. He's always 
making her do different things. I'll show them to you 
some other time."

"I don't want to see them."

"You're just upset because you've never seen this 
stuff before. I bet you've never even seen a hard-on, 
have you?"

Silence.

"Well, all men get them for sex. Like this."

He stood up directly in front of her and pulled open 
his pants so that his prick danced back and forth in 
front of her.

The world shifted again. She held herself against the 
back of the couch as hard as she could. She held her 
breath. Her eyes followed his dick, going back and 
forth like she was being hypnotized. It occurred to 
her that she should protest.

"Put it away! I don't want to see it!" She tried to 
look away.

"Oh no you don't. You look *now*!" He used a forceful 
voice. "And hold it in your hand. Do it!"

Finally she cried. Her face contorted and grew red, 
and while she tried to control herself she couldn't 
stop a flow of tears down her cheeks. At the same 
time she leaned forward and put her right hand on 
him, to placate him. She tried to grab him on the 
shaft exactly between the balls and head, so that she 
wouldn't have to touch either, but for a moment she 
couldn't bring herself to actually touch it at all. 
Then she did touch it just barely, but jerked her 
hand away because it felt so alien and hot. It was 
her third attempt before she could make herself close 
her fingers around it.

"I don't want to do this. Please don't make me." She 
wasn't actually crying anymore, but you couldn't tell 
it from her voice. He loved that she was begging.

"You hold it until I tell to let go. Good. Now, I'll 
let you let go and I'll pull my pants back up, but on 
one condition."

She couldn't look away from the cock in her hand, the 
reddish head just above her thumb, the wrinkled 
testes, the wild brown hair. Her hand was infinitely 
pale and smooth in comparison.

Finally, "What is it?"

"That you take off your clothes and let me touch you 
wherever I want to." 

Again, she didn't respond. None of her circuits were 
working just right. She looked at him blankly, before 
all at once having comprehension. She shook, a great 
shudder, then dropped her hand from him. She rose 
slowly from the couch, eased around him to be sure 
not to touch him, and took off her clothes.

There wasn't much, a t-shirt, shorts, and underwear. 
She turned her head to the side and stripped them off 
as fast as she could. Then he spoke again, in a 
different voice.

"I won't hurt you. Don't worry about that. And I 
won't make you do anything to me. Not now. Look."

He pulled up and fastened his pants. It was hidden 
again.

"Now come here." 

He took one of her hands and led her to the couch. He 
sat and pulled her down to him. She didn't resist. 
She was like a zombie. It was time to play with her.

* * * * * 

So she lay in his arms and he began to pet her. He 
did it like you would your cat. That's why they call 
it petting. Like you would a cat, except there's so 
much more in it for you. He petted her hairless body, 
moving the whole palm of his hand up from her belly 
to her little tits, the nipples that were starting to 
bloom far ahead of the rest of her. Just pointy 
little things. Tits. He said the word to himself.

He had moved his hand very softly up her front, after 
which he moved it around over one nipple, then the 
other, brushing their tops, almost scraping them with 
the palm, making them get bigger and meatier. She 
looked at his hand and held herself completely stiff.

He petted her downward, from her tits to her belly 
button and on down to her little slit of a vagina. 
She was holding her legs tightly together, so he 
moved the palm sides of his fingers back and forth 
over her closed vagina. He tickled her thighs, as far 
down as he could get his hand without pressing, down 
to her knees and then back up to her sex. His index 
finger moved up and down in her slit; no other 
fingers. 

She was still completely stiff, still staring at his 
hand, but she had gotten flushed and she was panting. 
That could mean any number of things.

"Open your legs up."

"No. I won't."

"The deal was I get to touch you anywhere I want. So 
do it, or they find out about you and the videotape."

She looked almost ready to cry again. Her eyes were 
damp and red and her lips were quivering. The rest of 
her fight left her. She opened her legs a little, and 
when he used his hands to push her open wide she 
didn't resist.

Now he could pet her right. He could move his hand 
crosswise, from one knee, up her inner thigh to her 
sex as lightly as he could, making sure to caress the 
entire sex, then down the inner thigh to the other 
knee. Then back. Over and over. 

She began to feel pleasure. Not the transient 
pleasure that comes from the touch, but the pleasure 
that stays, that fades only slowly, and that makes 
one anticipate the next stroke.

Even afraid, she hadn't lost the thrill in her bowels 
that comes from doing something forbidden. Her 
beloved brother. He hadn't hurt her, though she was 
still scared and disturbed. Making her lie back in 
his arms, he was gentle with his massaging and 
caressing. He gave her little chills. Every time his 
hand crossed her slit she tensed, but his touch was 
so very light, giving her a tiny bit of sex pleasure. 
It came back again. Again. She felt stirring. He did 
it again. He masturbated her softly, rhythmically, 
initiating her to the pleasure, caressing more firmly 
over time. Doing it repeatedly.

She didn't want to feel pleasure, not really, but he 
brought it out. He made her get little thrills. In 
the course of a few minutes she went from dread and 
fear to expectation, to hope, even to impatience. She 
relaxed her body. She let him lead and stopped trying 
to get in the way. The fear was still there, but far 
in the background.

He changed his strokes, now going up and down on her 
sex, brushing her clitoris on the way. Stroke down 
from her hood to her ass. Use your whole hand. Keep 
doing it.

As small as she is it was no problem to pet her in 
one stroke from her belly button all the way to her 
anus. Pet her sweet, silky skin while she lies in 
your arms, your hand caressing her, feeling nothing 
but female flesh and peach fuzz, your hand never 
really leaving some part of her sex.

She didn't know she wasn't stiff anymore, but knew 
that her whole sex felt full and tight. She shaped 
herself more into his body, watching his hand as 
intently as ever. If she'd thought of looking in the 
mirror she'd have seen that her face was red, 
especially her forehead. Her mouth was open a little 
bit, to let her breath flow faster and suddenly she 
made an "Ohhh" sound that went on for a bit, the 
pitch changing as she breathed in and out. A little 
preliminary cry. Then she began saying "Oh" only as 
she exhaled, again and again. She widened her spread 
legs herself, still gazing at his magic hand.

It was pure sex, nothing distant or pushed by 
fantasy, but immersion in the pleasure and excitement 
for the first time. Still he petted her and finally 
she spoke, sounding like someone who has just 
finished a race.

"Don't. Don't do that anymore. You shouldn't do that. 
You shouldn't do that to me."

* * * * *

How sweet it is when they become alarmed at their 
first pleasuring.

He stopped, took his hand entirely off her sex and 
away from her body. This would be good.

She looked at his hand, then to his face, then back. 
She didn't know to ask for it, or what to do with 
these new feelings and this force inside her body, so 
she stared back and forth, a terrible questioning 
look in her child's eyes. 

"Do you really want me to stop doing it?"

He was so engorged that his penis hurt from being 
trapped in his pants with her lying across his lap. 
There wasn't any response at all for a moment. 
Because the room was quiet all either could hear was 
her breathing. She looked away from him and he knew 
she was deciding to commit. Oh you sweet little 
bitch. The things I'll do to you.

When she finally looked at him she said "I don't 
know," but she also nodded in that shy fashion of 
young girls. He put a hand back on her, but not on 
her little pudendum. He caressed her inflated nipples 
as before and said:

"Say it. Tell me what you want me to do."

Silence.

"Then we're done, if you can't say that one little 
thing."

"No. I'll do it."

Her face was so beautiful, so childlike but showing a 
woman's desire. He hadn't been entirely sure that 
such a little girl could be driven by sexual want.

"Ask sweetly."

"I can't say that."

"Then we're done."

"No. Okay. Okay. Okay, I'll ask it. Will you please 
touch my vagina some more?"

"Do you know what I'm doing?"

She nodded.

"What's the word?"

She didn't understand.

"What's the word for what I'm doing to you?"

"I don't know."

"I'm masturbating you. Do you know that word?"

"Yes," and a nod. He trailed his hand back down to 
her sex and pushed down through her slit with his 
thumb. She was wet and slippery, something else he 
wasn't sure until then that such a young girl could 
be. When his thumb glided through her she gasped and 
made a squeak.

"Where did you learn that word?" He used the thumb 
again and stared into her face as her eyes closed 
completely for a second. His eyes were the first 
things she saw when she opened hers again.

"Where did you learn that word? Tell me."

"It was in a book I got from the library. And some 
girls I know talk about it sometimes."

"Have you done it to yourself?"

No, she hadn't.

The thumb again.

"You will. But it won't be as good as when a man does 
it to you."

He took his hand off her sex, brushed in a tickling 
fashion down the insides of her thighs, then back up 
to her nipples, skirting her sex on the way.

"Sex isn't just men doing things to you, and not just 
doing things you like either. It's like on the tape. 
You have to do things back, even things you don't 
want to do at first, and you have to let them do all 
kinds of things. Some of the things men will do to 
you you won't like, but when you're a good girl and 
you do what you're told, that's when you get the most 
pleasure. It's natural."

As he said this her eyes scrolled up and to the left, 
so he knew she was thinking about the tape, Mommy's 
mouth on Daddy's penis, Mommy with penis cream on her 
breasts, Mommy spread and whipped, caught up in her 
passion as Daddy did something with his mouth to her 
vagina.

* * * * * 

"And now you're going to learn how to kiss."

What was that? Of course she knew how to kiss. But of 
course she knew nothing, only theory, her experiences 
being only little pursed-lips kisses for her parents. 
He began to teach her the real thing, how open mouths 
worked and what tongues tasted like. While he did 
this he pushed two fingers up into her vagina. He 
expected to find a barrier but there was none, so he 
pushed his fingers all the way in, fucking her with 
them.

He hand fucked her while he kissed her. He knew what 
was coming but she didn't, not really, again only in 
theory, so he watched her face while he kissed her to 
see it begin. She was by now enslaved by what he was 
doing. She wouldn't want it ever to end, but it did 
of course, and when it did it caught her by surprise. 
She was already swept up in the pleasure and 
excitement, but when her orgasm began she knew just a 
second or two beforehand that something was changing, 
then it rushed up and out of her. She arched her back 
and went rigid and cried into his mouth, after which 
she lay in his arms and felt it go on and on.

* * * * *

What would he do with her next? When she had finally 
finished and lay there limply, looking up to him with 
that awe that marks one's first knowledge of the real 
power of sex, he had warned her to never, ever tell 
anyone, that she would put them both in danger if she 
told. It might not be very long before their parents 
returned, so he put her to bed. He turned out her 
light and ran his hands over her body, making a 
proprietary statement with them.

"The next time I'm going to make you do things too, 
Sissy. Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh. I will. I promise." He knew she would.

"Don't mention this even to me. No one says anything 
at all. I 'm in charge, understand?" She nodded. 
"When I decide it's time I'll tell you what we're 
going to do, and when."

He masturbated in the shower, spraying the drain with 
spurt after spurt of cream at what he had done. He 
was planning a future. He would teach her to suck, 
teach her to fuck. He would teach her to accept ropes 
and blindfolds. Especially he would teach her to 
submit.

In bed that night he jacked off again. He wanted to 
go slowly to allow time for a fantasy of what he 
would do to her. He caressed his penis with his left 
hand, softly moving it from balls to head. He held 
his right hand to his nose because he could still 
smell a little of her vagina on his fingertips. What 
couldn't he do to her? He came again, then went to 
sleep while playing the fantasy. Can we describe the 
fantasy that so entranced him? It played for him like 
a videotape.

* * * * * 

You would see her breathing and movements in it. They 
could be taken for those of a women caught up in 
passion. Her breathing is fast, fast gulps of air 
followed by exhalations that end with a sound, 
something sub-vocal, perhaps a whimper, perhaps a 
grunt. Something high pitched in any case, like a 
woman responding to sexual pleasure and unable to 
control herself.

Other than her breathing she doesn't move except when 
he hurts her. There's just the rapid shaking of her 
sweat-covered chest and belly, sucking the air in and 
expelling it. It is so beautiful to him. When he 
hurts her she moves, but she is too tired to put much 
into it. All she can do is writhe. Her vocalizations 
get louder and higher pitched, but one could scarcely 
call them real cries. No extravagant screams, no 
jerking or flailing, no begging. She already knows 
that she can't beg or plead, or apologize. Her job 
now is to take it, but she can't. All she can do is 
breath.

It is a super close-up. He is right up against her, 
between hurts caressing her all over her body, 
kissing her neck and face, licking and nuzzling her. 
It is so intimate. He whispers in her ear, soothing 
words, low and soft.

"You're so beautiful. You don't know how much more 
beautiful you've become since you decided to be 
obedient. My sweet, obedient bitch." His voice is 
breathy. 

It is better than videotape. You can see inside her 
mind. She feels his mouth moving against her ear. She 
is tiny and helpless. Less than helpless. She is 
nothing and he is omnipotent. All her attention is on 
him, on his hands running so softly over her nipples 
and thighs, and especially on his lips moving against 
her ear. Her aches and hurt and terror and 
overwhelming exhaustion are background elements. He 
stands out above them.

"You're finding out, aren't you? That I'm the center 
of everything for you, aren't you Sis. You listen to 
everything I say and you'll do everything I tell you, 
right?"

How does he know? He knows everything of course. 
During this the camera in his head pulls back so that 
you can see all of her. She continues her fast, 
ragged gulps and her whimpers. Her chest rises and 
falls, rises and falls, like that of a middle 
distance runner. 

"You'll be very, very good, won't you?"

She tries to nod, to let him know she agrees. But of 
course he already knows, doesn't he?

"Now it's time to continue your punishment, you sweet 
thing."

He ignores the change in her vocalizations, the 
raised timber, the despair. He puts a long pin 
through the ring holding her mouth open, to her upper 
gum, over her front teeth, and gives a strong push. 
She writhes again, moving sinuously, like a lovely 
sea creature, a mermaid under water, and her 
heightened cries are like those of a woman 
experiencing orgasm. He pushes the pin hard for 
several seconds, pulls it back slightly to move to 
another spot, pushes again, does it again. She can't 
even keep the cries going and by the time he is done 
with this round her writhing has diminished greatly. 
He steps away, puts down the pin, then resumes 
caressing her body and whispering soothing words to 
her. Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, and 
always her breaths end with a whimper.

The screen goes blank. 

 * * * * *

He slept beautifully. The next morning he even had 
breakfast with his parents and joked with his step 
mom, while she cooked, about how much she'd miss 
fixing him meals while on her trip. His stepsister 
sat next to him at the table, her face in the Sunday 
funnies, and didn't say two words to anyone.

End.

 



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